


Coffee With Almond Milk

by ArchOfImagine



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Barista Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes as Captain America, Canon minor character death - Sarah Rogers, Captain America Reverse Big Bang 2018, M/M, Past Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, based on art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 00:37:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14726643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchOfImagine/pseuds/ArchOfImagine
Summary: Steve's not real positive how it happens, but one day his favorite customer breaks the news to him:"When I invited you out that first time… I don’t know. I know it didn’t go the way I planned, but every time I come over to hang out, I imagine it’s kind of like we’re living in the 40’s and I’m courting you."And then he finds out the guy that has been 'courting' him just might be Captain America...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever Stucky fic! Crazy, right? 
> 
> I had a _lot_ of help with this thing. To my artist, who was amazing and my first choice in a very stressful claims process, [ellebeesknees](http://ellebeesknees.tumblr.com/)! Also to my beta helpers: [omgbubblesomg](https://archiveofourown.org/users/omgbubblesomg/pseuds/omgbubblesomg), [cettevieestbien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cettevieestbien), and [lyzeebyrd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyzeebyrd)!
> 
> Also a big thanks to Sebastian Stan for providing the title inspiration. Multiple people asked him at Wizard World Portland what his coffee was and he was adamant that it was usually either 'plain or with almond milk'. And since, for some reason, I couldn't think of a clever title for this... I let him be the inspiration!

Steve had dropped four lattes, one mocha, been burnt by the steam machine, and tried to blend a smoothie without the lid… before his boss gave him a _look_ and forever banished him to working the register. Considering he wasn't fired outright (it had only been a few weeks and he was a disaster!), Steve considered register duty a godsend. 

Aside from the whole _shyness_ thing, whenever a customer stepped up to the counter.

He really wasn't cut out for life in a coffee shop. Or life working. But ever since his mom got sick, bills were piling up and he had no other choice. He could draw all day long, but until he got the nerve to submit some of his drawings, he was still a broke art student.

“Hey, shortstop, they moved your stool to the register, huh? Too small to play with the big kids?”

Steve didn't even have to look up, to know who was standing on the other side of the counter. He didn't know the guy's name, but knew he was one of the regular jerks that liked to come in and talk shit about Steve. Behind the espresso machine it was easy to hide his anger, but at the register, there was no such reprieve. “Hello, sir, what can I get for you today?”

“How about a prettier face to take my order?”

“Would you like that with regular milk, or soy?” Steve snarked, eyebrow raised and face serious.

“You think you're smart, kid?” the guy asked, leaning forward over the counter. “Think you're funny?”

“Sir, if you have no intention of ordering, I'll have to ask you to step aside for the person behind you.”

The guy glared for another long minute, before finally reciting a very specific drink request and making sure Steve knew that if it was wrong, a manager would be hearing from him.

_Whatever._ The guy would be back next week, still just as much of an asshole. Steve took a breath, trying to recenter his mood as he focused on the next customer and let the day continue. 

He was just getting back from lunch, a couple hours later, when he spotted his _favorite_ customer walking in. Unfortunately, he’d been able to hide his anger before, but he wasn’t able to hide his blush behind the espresso machine. He ducked his head as Mr. Tall-Dark-And-Handsome walked up to the counter. 

“Hello, Steve,” the man stated.

Steve looked up, cheeks burning red, and smiled shyly. “Hello. The regular?” And how sad was it that he knew the guy’s _drink order_ but not his name?

“Yes, please. And a pastry…” Mr. T-D-A-H leaned over to peer into the bakery case. “Should I do apple or cherry, Steve?”

“I uh… I prefer apple?” 

He watched a pretty pink tongue slip out to lick full lips and then, “Apple it is.”

“Uh…” Steve looked down at the cup where he’d already scribbled out the code for the man’s drink… then somewhere, some small part of him, found the nerve to ask, “Can I put a name on the order?”

Mr. T-D-A-H winked and answered, “Bucky,” with a smile.

_Bucky._

“ _Steve._ ” 

He turned, realizing that Maria was staring at him, holding her hand out impatiently, ready to take the cup and get _Bucky’s_ order made. Whoops. He passed the cup over and quickly fumbled to get an apple pastry put into a small bag for Bucky, then moved back to the register and passed the pastry over the table.

“Six forty-nine,” Steve mumbled, back to ducking his head in embarrassment. Bucky passed over a ten dollar bill and Steve quickly keyed the amount into the register, before getting Bucky’s change and holding it out to him. “Would you like your receipt?”

The side of Bucky’s mouth quirked up in a smirk. “Only if you write your number on it.”

“I… I…” His hands were shaking as he pulled the receipt, ripping it from the register and quickly squiggly-writing something on the back that he _hoped_ was his phone number.

Bucky took the receipt with another wink. “Thanks, Steve.”

Oh yeah, he was definitely going to pass out…

* * *

`**Unknown:** Hello Steve.`

`**Steve:** Who is this`

`**Unknown:** You give your number to a lot of your customers?`

`**Steve:** Bucky? Right?`

`**Bucky:** I hope its ok to text you. I figure calling is a bit too formal?`

`**Steve:** Texting is good. Was your pastry good?`

`**Bucky:** Delicious. `

`**Bucky:** I was hoping I could take you out to dinner. `

`**Steve:** […]`

* * *

“Too fast, you idiot.” Bucky watched the dreaded three dots appear and then disappear multiple times, before he finally tossed his phone aside and reached a hand up to brush through his hair. Sometimes he managed to forget that not everyone was openly accepting of his sexuality. He was surrounded by so many friends that couldn’t care less if he took a man or a woman to dinner (or bed), that he’d easily fallen into a trap of believing that _everyone_ felt that way. 

And yes, he had maybe gotten punched a few times for flirting with the wrong person, but it was never enough to deter his brain from making the same mistake the next time.

He was fairly certain he hadn’t misjudged the twinkle Steve got in his eye every time Bucky stopped in at that particular coffee shop, but stranger things had happened.

“Yo.”

Bucky turned from staring at his phone on the sofa, long enough to look up at Sam in confusion. “How did you get in here?”

“Unlocked. _Again._ ” Sam carried one of Bucky’s beers over to sit in the recliner — Sam’s personal favorite spot there in Bucky’s apartment — and kicked up his feet onto the coffee table. “It’s almost like you _want_ someone to walk in here and steal all of your shit.”

His apartment housed one queen size bed, one second hand sofa, one Sam-approved recliner, and all of the appliances that had came with the place. Oh… and a few well worn clothing items. “I think the only thing worth stealing is the beer.”

“Sometimes I walk in here and think the place has _already_ been robbed,” Sam mused.

Bucky opened his mouth, a half-prepared retort ready to slip free, when his phone dinged and cut his attention back over to where it laid on the sofa. His hand literally _itched_ to reach over and check the message, but if he did, Sam would immediately start giving him shit for it.

“Hey Cap—”

“Hmm?”

“The house is on fire…”

“That’s nice.” He was still staring at the other side of the sofa; still wondering if it was Steve’s answer that had made his phone ding. Did he say yes? Oh, fuck, did he say _no_?

“ _Cap._ ”

Bucky ignored his friend, reaching out a tentative hand for the phone.

A loud alarm sounded, causing Bucky to blink back into the present. He frowned at the smoke filling the air and turned to look at Sam, only to see the recliner was empty. Hearing clattering in the kitchen, he turned his upper body and looked over the back of the sofa. Sam was in the kitchen, pulling a flaming pan from the oven and dropping it into the sink to be doused with water.

_”Oh fuck!”_ He had been making lunch! Bucky jumped up, rushing across the room to peer over Sam’s shoulder at the charred remains of overly-roasted carrots and chicken. “Huh.”

“Open a window you dud,” Sam demanded, waving a hand in the air to get some of the smoke to dissipate. 

Bucky did as instructed, snapping into action and opening all of the apartment windows as far as they’d go. It helped enough to get the smoke detector to stop ringing. “Guess it’s lucky I don’t have a sprinkler system.”

His friend moved over to the space in front of him, a hand reaching out to rest on Bucky’s shoulder. “You okay? I haven’t seen you get that lost in thought since you used to dissociate back when you first came home. Something triggering you?”

“No it’s just…” Bucky ducked his head, feeling a sheepish blush rise to his cheeks. “There’s this guy…”

“Oh my _God_! We almost die because you wanna get laid? Seriously? I hate you.”

“He’s really adorable!”

“I can’t believe I was worried about you.”

“His name is Steve—”

“Shoulda let you die in a house fire.”

“Sam!”

* * *

`**Steve:** I’m not sure thats such a good idea.`

Steve stared at his phone and tried to understand why he hated himself so much. Bucky was the literal embodiment of _sex appeal_ and he asked _Steve_ of all people, out on a date.

And Steve thought it was cool to just… turn him down? Like it wasn’t the best offer he’d ever received in his life.

“Steve, honey, are you home?”

The voice brought a frown to his face; because she knew that he was home, he had stopped in there first with her and asked how her day had gone. He tucked his phone away and went back into his mother’s room. “Hey ma,” he spoke, starting over. “I just got home. How was your day?”

They had the same conversation for the second time, until Steve was finally able to pull away and move into the kitchen to get dinner going. His thoughts, of course, rolled right back to Bucky — the hottie that _wanted_ to spend time with Steve.

Bucky didn’t know what he was asking, though. It was never _just_ Steve. It was Steve and his mom. Steve and the constant notifications on his phone from their nurse who came to spend time with Sarah while Steve was at work. 

It was all he could do to live his own life, let alone drag someone into it with him. It was hard to justify going out on a date, when the extra time would mean extra money spent on their nurse, since the state only paid her up to a certain amount of time, and anything beyond that was Steve’s responsibility. He didn’t have the luxury of extra cash for those kinds of moments.

He ate dinner alone, sitting at their beat up dining table and savoring his grilled cheese and tomato soup. It had recently gotten to a point where if Steve tried to get his mom to eat, she refused, but for some reason she would eat for the nurse… so the nurse handled all meals before she left. And Steve spent most of his days off arguing and crying when he couldn’t convince his mother to eat.

His phone remained silent for the rest of the evening and on into the next day. He started to wonder why he’d even bothered giving Bucky his number in the first place. There was no universe where he would have been able to go out… so what had he been looking for, by giving into Bucky’s flirting?

_A friend,_ some part of his brain whispered. Steve ignored the voice and continued focusing on the line of thirsty coffee drinkers in front of him.

He’d just passed off a ridiculous order (met with an eye roll from his co-worker), when the next person stepped up and Steve focused back on the register without meeting the person’s gaze. “What can I get for you?”

“Black coffee and a few minutes to apologize?”

_Bucky._ Steve still refused to look up, as he wrote the order on a cup and told Bucky the amount that he owed. 

Bucky passed over cash and whispered, “Steve—”

Steve glanced to his left at the wall clock. “I have twenty-five minutes before my lunch.”

“I’ll be here.”

He watched Bucky walk to the other end of the counter to get his drink, and then find a booth in the corner of the cafe. Then he got back to work, because he really couldn’t afford to make his boss more upset with him. When he finally clocked out for lunch, he carried his brown paper bag out to where Bucky still sat, and sat down across from him. 

Bucky arched an eyebrow, looking over as Steve pulled out his peanut butter and jelly, and an apple juice box. “I feel like we’re back in grade school.”

He pointed at Bucky’s refilled coffee cup, “Not all of us can afford a specialty coffee every day.” 

“I—”

The sound of Steve’s phone dinging from his pocket, cut off whatever Bucky was going to say. Steve pulled his phone out, already feeling nerves flooding his system… no one ever tried to reach out to him unless…

_”Shit._ ” His heart started to race as he tried to focus on the message and understand what he was seeing.

“Steve!” 

He looked up at the sound of Bucky calling out to him, and realized the reason why he couldn’t see his phone screen, was because he was crying. “My mom—” He looked back down at his phone, and noticed Bucky squeezing his hand. “They just took her to the hospital. Nurse thinks she had a stroke.”

“Shit, Steve.” Bucky squeezed his hand once more, before packing his lunch back into the brown bag and moving over to the counter. When he came back over, Bucky wrapped an arm around Steve’s small shoulders and helped him to his feet. “Which hospital?”

“I… I…” Bucky grabbed the phone from him, and a moment later they were walking out the door. When Steve blinked and realized they were standing at the curb and Bucky was flagging down a cab, Steve quickly shook his head. “I can’t afford a cab. I have to work. My boss is going to fire me if I’m not back from lunch!”

“I already talked to your boss, Steve.” Bucky opened the car door for them and ushered Steve inside, before giving the driver the hospital’s name as he sat down next to Steve. “I told him there was a family emergency and you’d call him tomorrow. And don’t worry about the cab. I’ve got this. Just focus on your mom, okay?”

* * *

The day got worse before it got better, and when Steve left the hospital a week later, he wasn’t the same person. Bucky had tried to be there throughout everything, but Steve hadn’t even let him enter the hospital that first day. It wasn’t something he wanted someone like Bucky to see. 

His boss, surprisingly, allowed him two weeks of time off (technically he had to, thanks to family medical leave laws, but of course he played it up like he was being _generous_ ), and offered more time, but once the funeral was taken care of, Steve needed something to get his mind off of everything.

He sat at lunch, a week after being back at work, and stared at his phone, reading over the large amount of text messages that Bucky had sent his way since that first day. He didn’t have the nerve to respond to any of them. Didn’t know what he would say if he tried. Bucky deserved so much more than Steve could ever give, or would ever be.

When his shift ended, he stored his apron and grabbed his backpack, on his way out of the store. As soon as he stepped out of the coffee shop, hands already pulling his collar up against the chill in the air, he spotted a familiar face standing in the crowd. 

Bucky was holding flowers, nervous hand itching at the back of his neck. When he saw Steve, he immediately stepped forward, holding the flowers out with a nervous smile. “Can I walk you home?”

The coffee shop where he worked was mired in the middle of Queens, more than walking distance away from his shitty apartment in Brooklyn. Steve slowly took the flowers and replied, “I gotta ride the train—”

Bucky nodded, reaching in his back pocket for his wallet and quickly pulling out a metro card. “I can handle that.” They walked in silence for a while, Bucky a welcomed presence on his left side, as Steve walked the two blocks to his normal subway station and descended the stairs. Once they were standing and waiting for the next train, Bucky nudged his shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“You barely know me.”

“Yes, but when I order my coffee I like to see a familiar, friendly face. Preferably one that is adorable and enjoys rejecting my advances.”

“Buck—” The train came rolling to a stop in front of them, and Steve waited until they were seated on the surprisingly empty train car, before continuing. “I couldn’t… with my mom? And everything? I’m not really the dating type.”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” Bucky made a show of rolling his eyes and throwing his hands in the air. “You ask a guy on _one date_ and suddenly he thinks you’re going steady!”

Despite himself, Steve laughed. Bucky’s personality was definitely endearing, but it didn’t mean dating ( _dinner_ , whatever) would work. Bucky was… _Bucky._ And Steve was well… _Steve._

“Hey.” Steve looked up at the sound of Bucky’s voice and the soft touch of a hand on his arm. “How about pizza? Ordered in. Some movies and BSing, my treat.”

“I—” Steve couldn’t immediately think of a reason to decline, so he took a shot in the dark. “I like pineapple on my pizza.”

Bucky pulled away and got to his feet. “Where’s the emergency stop button? I need off this train!”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh once more.


	2. Chapter 2

It became a norm of sorts. Bucky knew that Steve felt alone, after his mom’s passing, but he also knew that Steve didn’t want someone there to constantly badger him about how he was feeling. So Bucky would show up on his doorstep with food and they would eat while talking about nonsense or sometimes not talking at all. When they realized they had similar tastes in video games — and Bucky saw the nearly-ancient original Nintendo sitting beneath the television — that became their go-to activity over chow mein or tikka masala… whatever they were in the mood for.

When a couple weeks of hanging out fairly regularly passed by, Steve stood against the kitchen counter one night, watching Bucky dish up equal servings of spaghetti from the amazing Italian place down the block, when something dawned on him with sudden clarity. He turned the corner and checked the thermostat on the wall, before looking back at Bucky. “Do you want me to raise the heat up? I usually keep it low, to save money, but every time I see you, you’re wearing long sleeves, and ma would probably roll over in her grave if she knew I wasn’t making my guest comfortable—”

While Steve watched, Bucky tugged nervously at the end of his sleeve. It was the first time Steve had seen him act anything less than suave and cavalier. _’Great, Rogers, you broke him…’_

“I didn’t mean—” Steve sputtered a bit, trying to backtrack on what he had said. There was obviously more to the story than met the eye, and he had just stuck his foot in his mouth.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, quickly cutting off Steve’s panic. “You didn’t know, so don’t feel bad.” He fiddled with the end of his sleeve once more, before finally stepping away from the counter and moving closer to Steve. He shoved his left shirt sleeve up to his elbow and held out his arm to Steve. “People ask a lot of questions, so I wear long sleeves to avoid telling the story each time.”

“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, small hand reaching out to grab Bucky’s wrist so he could get a closer look. Along the part of Bucky’s arm that he could see, ran a series of precisioned tattoo lines, each a strange metallic color. The way the lines ran so perfectly made it look like Bucky’s arm was pieces of overlapping metal. He reached his free hand up to push the sleeve a little past Bucky’s elbow, and sure enough, the lines continued on, getting a bit larger, as if they were bigger plates stretching over his bicep. “What—”

Bucky laughed and stepped back, before pulling the shirt completely off. Steve had a momentary brain lapse as he saw the expanse of _perfect fucking muscle_ and _oh look at that pretty happy trail, let’s follow it…_ , before his eyes traced back to Bucky’s left arm. The tattoos ran all the way up to his shoulder, where a large red star was tattooed over what looked like tiny star like scar lines.

When Steve reached out a hand to trace over the scar lines, Bucky explained, “Remember how I said I was in the army? Well I got sent home after I was shot in the shoulder. Coulda been worse. They were worried they would have to take the arm, but I convinced them I could live with a bit of nerve damage and loss of feeling. I wasn’t expecting it to be as bad as it is, though. Sometimes I wish they’d taken it. I have friends with prosthetics who have more feeling than I do.”

“And the tattoos?”

Bucky smiled a bit, “Had to make the scar look cool. It was my friend Sam’s idea to make it look like the arm _was_ a metal prosthetic.”

Steve couldn’t believe the burst of emotion that was running through his brain. Bucky had gone through so much — obviously _continued_ to go through stuff — but he still remained one of the most genuine people that Steve had ever met! Without really thinking, Steve leaned forward and softly brushed his lips over the scar where the bullet hit, thinking about all the times his ma would kiss his scars to make them ‘better’. 

“ _Steve_.” Bucky’s voice was barely above a gasp.

It dawned on him what he’d done, and Steve quickly pulled back and reached for his plate. “I’m gonna get our game going,” he mumbled, hurrying to the living room with his head ducked.

* * *

“I showed him my scar.”

“Whoa!” Sam sputtered a bit on the bottle of root beer he’d been drinking from (Bucky had a long standing rule that root beer — _gross_ — was not allowed in his apartment, but Sam enjoyed ignoring his rules), and then looked at Bucky like he was insane. “Dude, how did a few dinner hangouts get that serious? Last I heard, you don’t even like sex with your shirt off.”

“Kid was worried he’d offended me by keeping his heater turned down,” Bucky tried to explain. Sam gave him a look that clearly called _bullshit_ , and Bucky ducked his gaze. “He kissed it.”

“Your arm?”

“The scar.”

“ _Whoa._ ”

Bucky felt a blush creeping up on his cheeks. He also felt like he was back in the third grade, when he admitted quietly to Sam, “I think I really like him.”

Sam slapped his hand down on his leg. “Well I’ll be damned!”

“ _Sam._ ”

“I don’t see a problem here, Buck. He obviously likes you. Never known anyone to go kissing up a guy’s scar without _some_ feelings.”

“I haven’t told him about Cap,” Bucky finally managed.

Sam threw a frustrated hand up into the air. “Why the hell not!”

“Because literally the only thing he thinks about, beyond missing his mom and painting is _money._ Every time we order dinner he offers me cash for his portion, and I’ve been secretly stashing it back in his wallet, or places around his apartment that he won’t notice right away, but he argues about paying _every time_ and I can’t just show up one day and be like ‘oh yeah, by the way, the government pays me a _lot_ of money to model for them.”

“ _Sure_ ,” Sam nodded. “And so in two weeks when you have to go on that ten day cross country tour… you’re going to what? Tell him you’re sick? Come up with an excuse that _won’t_ make it seem like you’re tired of hanging out and suddenly avoiding him?”

“Fuck!” Bucky slammed his head back on the sofa. He’d been so caught up in how nice it was to spend time with Steve, that he had obviously completely forgotten about the annual charity tour that he had to do as Cap. “Oh fuck, he’s going to hate me! I _just_ got him to let me in.”

“There, of course, is a very simple solution…”

“I can’t… I can’t tell him. He won’t look at me the same way. Most people act like they _only_ want to be with me for the money, but Steve is such a martyr sometimes… I know he would do the opposite. He’d learn about the money and immediately want nothing to do with me. He’d think I was trying to buy him or some shit.”

Sam frowned, sympathy written on his face. “You’re gonna have to figure something out, Buck. The tour isn’t going to wait.”

* * *

On more than one occasion, Bucky had wanted to offer to take Steve out to an actual restaurant for dinner. Unfortunately, the more he got to know Steve, the more he started to see exactly why that first dinner invite had gotten so easily shut down. If they were just _hanging out_ as friends, Steve was fine, but add any kind of title to what they were, or suggest an actual ‘date’ and suddenly he was closing himself off. 

So they weren’t dating. They were friends. Bucky couldn’t bring him presents — he still believed the flowers had only been accepted because Steve had received so many similar gifts in the days following his mom’s passing — he couldn’t buy dinner, he couldn’t touch or kiss or… _fuck_ just hold the damn punk’s hand!

He could play video games. Stash Steve’s cash back in his wallet when he tried to pay for dinner. And sometimes, if he timed it right, he could meet Steve after he clocked out at the cafe and walk with him home, where they would proceed to hang out again.

Which all added up to the annoying fact that Bucky had no idea how he was going to tell Steve that he would be gone for at least ten days.

As he got buzzed into Steve’s building and started up the stairs to the third floor, he continued to go over in his mind how he was going to phrase things. How he could explain himself without admitting that he was Captain-fucking-America. When he got to Steve’s apartment, he raised his hand to knock on the door, only to have it slide open in front of him. “Steve?” he immediately called out, worry hitting him in a rush. It wasn’t the best neighborhood…

“In here.”

Bucky stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and found Steve sitting at the kitchen table with money and bills spread out in front of him, as well as a calculator. “What’s going on?”

“Super was just here, wanting rent. I’m a couple days late, and I was hoping he wouldn’t notice… because I’m about two hundred short and won’t have it until payday next week. I had to pay the power — I can only go two months without paying, before they start sending notices — and it ran me over. Buck, you shouldn’t’a come… I can’t afford dinner tonight.”

“Two hundred short?” he asked.

“Yeah.” Steve’s face turned into a glare, as he looked up at Bucky. “I’m not taking your money, Buck.” 

“ _Good._ ‘Cause I wasn’t _offering_ ,” he snarked back. Bucky moved into the kitchen and bent over to pull out the bottom drawer… the one filled with recipes that Steve’s mom had handwritten. Stuff Steve said he couldn’t stand to look at, so soon after her passing. Shoved against the front of the drawer, was a pile of money that Bucky had been stashing, and he pulled it out to throw on the table in front of Steve. Then, he closed the drawer and opened the cup cabinet, reaching for the well-loved coffee mug that said _’Sarah’_ in Steve’s writing, and had a painted flower on the side. He pulled another wad of cash from the cup, threw it on the table as well.

Steve stared at the pile of money with his mouth hanging open in shock. “Wha—”

Bucky made one last grab — pulling down the box of cookies that Steve had admitted were his mom’s favorite, that he couldn’t seem to make himself throw away — and grabbed the final wad of stashed money. He threw it on the table with the rest, and sat down in the chair across from Steve. “Should be enough to cover your rent and then some.”

“What is all of this?”

With a blush and a nervous hand at the back of his neck, Bucky answered, “I told you I wasn’t taking your money, when you tried to pay for dinner.”

“Bucky!”

_”Steve!”_ he mocked back.

“I can’t—”

“You said you wouldn’t take _my money_. I hate to break it to you, Stevie, but that’s all _your_ money.”

Steve pouted as he counted out the money, setting part of it in a pile that was obviously for rent, and the extra in a different pile. “Why were you… why did you do this?”

“Steve, I have absolutely _nothing_ in my life worth spending money on. I pay my bills, and I sit in my empty apartment and stare at blank walls. When I invited you out that first time… I don’t know. I know it didn’t go the way I planned, but every time I come over to hang out, I imagine it’s kind of like we’re living in the 40’s and I’m courting you. So I’m going to continue buying food and hanging out here, and you can continue trying to pay me for it, but I’m just going to keep stashing it in places around your apartment.” Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “I guess that’ll be our thing.”

Steve was silent for a few long moments, as he looked over the stacks of cash. Finally, he looked back up at Bucky and gave the smallest of smiles. “Thanks, Buck.”

* * *

They ordered Greek food for dinner, and over his pita and tzatziki sauce, Bucky looked beside him to where Steve sat and smiled. He really was enjoying their time together. Steve was funny and smart and easy to talk to. But there was also a calmness that would settle down between them and sometimes they'd sit for hours in companionable silence — without any worry floating in Bucky’s brain that he needed to fill the silence with words. 

As the night wore on, though, it started to weigh more and more on Bucky’s mind that there was such a large part of himself that he was keeping hidden from Steve. Yes, he feared that Steve would react badly when he was told about Cap… but Bucky also _knew_ Steve would react bad when he found out about the subtle lying. Lying by omission.

There was also the charity event — which was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

Bucky hit the pause button on their Mario game and set his controller down before turning to look at Steve. “We uh… can we talk, for a minute?”

Steve turned to him, looking confused, “I guess?”

“So we never really talk about my job.”

“You’re a retired soldier.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I was a soldier, yes, but when I got back, I had to find work. The pension was good, but not _that_ good.”

“O...kay?”

He ducked his head and blushed a bit. He couldn’t tell the whole truth, but maybe a bit of it would help ease the burn later. “I’m a model.” At Steve’s quirked eyebrow and what Bucky realized was the beginning of a laugh, he fought off rolling his eyes _again._ What a punk. “It’s true! And I’m saying this because I’m actually leaving in a few days to go on this tour thing and I didn’t want you wondering why I wasn’t coming around for a couple’a weeks.”

Steve’s choked back laugh turned into a frown. “I wouldn’t have—”

“Yes, you would have. You would have thought I was ditching out on you and then spent the entire time coming up with reasons why you fucked up and I wasn’t speaking to you.” Steve opened his mouth to argue, before obviously thinking better of it. Bucky continued, “I’ll still have a lot of downtime at night, so we can text, maybe even call if we decide to. But I want to go on this trip knowing that when I get back, I’m not going to have to sleep on your doorstep to prove I want to be near you.”

Steve was quiet for a moment, before he nodded and looked towards the television. “Okay. I promise not to think you being gone means you hate me.”

“ _Thank you._ ”

“But I’m not done making fun of you for being a male model.”

“I would expect nothing less.”

“I mean I knew you were good looking but—”

Bucky sighed, “I hate you.”

* * *

Steve waited until Bucky had left for the night, before pulling out his phone and googling Bucky’s name. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of _modeling_ Bucky did. (And okay so maybe a _small_ part of his brain liked looking at Bucky.)

He was actually kind of shocked he hadn’t tried doing so before then. Usually boredom got the best of him late at night and he looked up his coworkers for shits and giggles.

Unfortunately when he searched for _Bucky Barnes_ he just kept coming up with images of _Captain America_. He didn’t know a lot about the army icon, but he knew he wasn’t _Bucky_ , so Steve got annoyed at the whole thing and gave up.

* * *

_He was standing in the bank when the armed men walked in. He felt his blood run cold and immediately ducked to the floor. The men stepped up to the counter, loud voices demanding ‘all of the money’..._

_Instead of a teller, Steve turned to see Captain America materialize out of nowhere. “You punks forgot your receipt,” the Captain said, before swinging his large shield out across the counter like a frisbee. Two of the three men fell with the hit from the shield, and Captain America quickly jumped over the counter to knock out the third man with a solid punch._

_Once all of the would-be robbers were taken out, Steve watched in shock as the Captain walked toward him. The bottom half of his face was exposed beneath the cap of his uniform, and Steve watched a familiar smile blossom on those pretty lips as the Captain reached out a hand to help him up off the floor._

_“I hope they didn’t hurt you,” the Captain said._

_“N-no.”_

_“Good!” And then Steve was tilted back in the Captain’s arms like a damsel getting saved by her best guy, and he felt the press of the Captain’s lips against his own…_

* * *

Steve sat bolt upright in bed and blinked as his own room came back into focus. What the hell…

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled, still feeling half asleep. “I think Bucky is Captain America.”


	3. Chapter 3

It became a theme, over the next few nights, that Steve woke up from a variety of dreams involving Captain America. Bucky left town on a Monday afternoon and wasn’t due back until the _following_ Wednesday… a whole ten days apart, after seeing each other every other day or so for months. 

So maybe it was no real surprise that by Tuesday night, he missed Bucky. 

_A lot._

`**Steve:** so i have a confession `

`**Bucky:**??? `

`**Steve:** I kinda miss your face `

`**Bucky:** :D `

`**Bucky:** I’m afraid that feeling might be mutual `

`**Steve:** you got a few mins for a call? `

`**Bucky:** gotta shower first, call you in 20 `

Oh of course, because as if he wasn’t having _enough_ problems, he had to think about Bucky naked in the shower. Nope. _Not_ thinking about that.

Steve had a problem.

His problem’s name was Bucky Barnes.

The phone rang, jolting him in his spot on the sofa. He’d been drawing… well, attempting to, when he’d initially realized that it was too quiet without Bucky there and that he _missed_ him, so he’d gone back to his sketchpad when Bucky said he had to shower.

Now the doodle of Captain America was forgotten on the coffee table as he rushed to grab his phone before it rang for the third time. “Hello?”

“ _Steve._ ”

His blood ran cold. That _wasn’t_ Bucky’s voice. “Why are you calling me? You aren’t supposed to call me—”

“I just got out, sweetheart. I want to see you. How’s momma?”

“She’s _dead_ , thanks for asking. I told you to stop calling here.” Steve’s heart was starting to race. He wanted to be talking to _Bucky_ not… not…

“Oh fuck, Steve, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” There was a pause, followed by a soft and sweet voice… the voice Steve used to love, “Please let me come over. You’re the only thing I’ve thought about for _six months_ , darling, and I miss you.”

“Tony—”

“You’re the reason I’m sober, Steve. I would have never gone to that place without the promise I made to you to clean up my act.”

The phone dinged in his ear with another call coming in, and he pulled it away enough to see that it was Bucky’s name on the screen. “I gotta go, Tony. Someone else is calling.” He hit the call transfer button without waiting for a response and sighed out a soft, “Hey Buck.”

“Steve?” There was immediate concern in his voice. “What’s wrong?”

It was only as he tried to explain, that Steve realized he was close to tears. _No!_ He had cried enough for Tony fucking Stark. “My ex called.”

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

“No! He’s been in rehab for _six months_ and now he calls demanding I let him back into my life because I’m the one that told him he needed to get sober.” Yep, there were definitely tears falling. “He’s going to show up here, I just know it. He’s not a bad guy, at least not most of the time. I just have such a hard time telling people ‘no’... especially him.”

“Let me help.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “How are you going to help? You aren’t even in the state!”

“I’ll get my friend Sam to come pick you up. You can stay at my place ‘til I get back. Maybe by then he’ll think you’ve moved or something.”

“Bucky, I can’t—”

“Call it house sitting. My place is right around the corner from your work. Sam has a key that you can borrow.” When Steve didn’t respond right away, Bucky continued, “It’s not charity, Steve. I just don’t want you in a situation where you’ll be uncomfortable, without anyone there to help you.”

“ _Fine._ ” He had a million reasons why he shouldn’t say yes, but none of them wanted to pop into his brain at that particular moment. All he could think about was Tony knowing his address… Tony showing up, playing suave and working his way back into Steve’s bedroom… 

Tony ruining whatever Steve had going on with Bucky.

“And I could also—” Bucky stopped suddenly and Steve could actually _see_ his frown, even a thousand miles away and over the phone. “Did you just agree? Just like that?”

“I can’t go back to him, Bucky. It was so hard to watch someone I loved hurt themself like that… he’d go weeks on end where he’d just disappear without word, strung out on the next big kick.”

“I guess it’s a good thing I told you where I was going this week then,” Bucky said. Steve hadn’t really considered it — he liked to block out all thoughts related to Tony Stark — but Bucky was right… if he had just disappeared off of the radar for ten days, Steve would have immediately been thrust back into a horrible past. “Listen, Steve, I’m gonna go so I can call Sam and get him over there as soon as possible. Go pack yourself a bag… and maybe some food, because my cupboards leave a lot to desire, and call me once you’re settled, okay?”

“Sure thing, Buck.”

* * *

He’d just left with Sam in a cab, when he looked out the window and noticed an expensive sports car pulling up outside of his apartment building. It stuck out in the neighborhood like a sore thumb, just another way that Tony liked to show off. Whenever Steve had mentioned fearing for the car’s safety, Tony would just shrug and say he could always buy a new one if necessary.

“That him?” Sam asked, looking over the backseat of the cab in the same direction as Steve.

“Yeah.”

“Looks like we got out just in time.”

Steve watched Tony climb from the car, but a moment later the taxi was turning and he lost his view. He remained silent for the rest of the trip, stuck in his memories of how things with Tony used to be. Things had gotten bad at the end, yes, but they really had been good at the beginning of it all. He’d met Tony at a charity event — one that Tony’s family was hosting, and Steve just happened to land a job serving at — Steve had tripped over his own feet and spilled a carafe of water all over a New York Senator and Tony had laughed so hard he’d shot champagne out of his nose. When Steve had dashed away in shame, Tony had followed along. They’d ditched the party not long after and Tony spent the rest of the night showing Steve a side of New York he’d never seen: the rich people side.

He shook his head. The good times had lasted for a while, yes, but the darkness after that was a terrible shadow over everything. It was hard to remember happy Tony, after seeing him skin and bones and strung out on cocaine and opioids.

“We’re here.”

Steve glanced up at Sam, before looking out at the nice-enough apartment building. It wasn’t as upscale as Tony’s had been, but it also wasn’t the rundown mess that Steve lived in. He followed Sam out of the cab and quickly moved around to the trunk to get the suitcase, duffel bag, and grocery tote of food that he had packed. Sam finished paying the cab driver and moved around to grab the suitcase from Steve.

It was a testament to how worked up over everything Steve was, that he didn’t even make a fuss over paying. Carrying two of the three bags, Steve followed Sam into the building and straight to the elevator. Once they were in the car, heading for the ninth floor, according to the button Sam had pushed, Sam looked over at Steve and Steve caught the glint of nervousness in his eyes.

“So uh… I should probably prepare you for what you’re about to see in Bucky’s apartment.”

Steve immediately frowned, thoughts and fears drawing up every terrible thing that they could. “Uh—”

“Not in a _bad_ way. More so in a… I don’t know, minimalist? Way? Bucky was an army brat, so he’s used to not having ties to any one particular place. He doesn’t look at ‘homes’ like the rest of us, he just sees a building that keeps him dry and protected while he sleeps. He doesn’t connect to trinkets or pictures the way most people do.”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open on the ninth floor. Sam motioned for Steve to follow, as he turned to the right and walked to the end of the hallway. He pulled a key out of a pocket and quickly unlocked the door before pushing it open and stepping aside so that Steve could go in first.

It immediately became obvious what Sam meant. The interior was, to put it frankly, _stark._ There was a worn down sofa and comfortable looking recliner in the ‘living room’ area… but instead of facing a television, like most people’s couches did, they faced a floor to ceiling window overlooking the neighborhood. To the right, the kitchen looked like the apartment had just been rented and was freshly cleaned and ready for it’s next tenant. Steve set his bags down on the kitchen island counter… there weren’t even _barstools_ against the counter. Past the kitchen wall, he peeked around and saw the open doorway to the bedroom, where the queen size bed sat perfectly made in dark blue sheets.

“You weren’t lying,” Steve mused. It was almost _eerie._ The idea that someone could live without any real connection to their home. No pictures of beloved family members, or trinkets from time spent in other places. No _toaster_ or _coffee maker_... wait, at least that explained why Bucky came for a cup down at the cafe every morning.

“I don’t know if he’s really talked to you about his past, it isn’t really my story to tell, but _essentially_ , Bucky’s family didn’t agree with his sexual preferences and so he joined the army as a way of escaping them and his childhood home. That’s why there aren’t pictures. I think he’s got a closet…” Sam began walking down the hallway and pulled open a door at the end, just to the left of the bathroom. “Yeah.” He stepped aside and showed Steve the inside of the linen closet… or, well, what most people would use as a linen closet. Instead, Bucky had filled his with enough books to keep a person occupied for a lifetime. 

“ _Wow._ ”

“So if you get bored, I would hit this up. I think when Bucky wants to watch a movie or something, he uses his laptop, but he took that with him.”

Steve nodded, eyes scanning the different book titles. “I have mine in my duffel.”

“Awesome! Well, I hate to run out on you, but it’s getting late and I have to work tomorrow. Bucky said to let you know you can help yourself to anything that’s here — even if it’s not a lot — and that towels and washcloths are under the bathroom sink.”

Closing the closet door, Steve turned and offered Sam a smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

Sam nodded and started moving towards the door, before he stopped and turned back. “Oh and if you try to do the ‘upstanding guest’ thing and sleep on the couch, you will regret it in the morning. There are three springs loose and that thing is a demon. Seriously, don’t look a gift bird in the mouth and _sleep in the bed._ ”

Steve felt a blush creep up on his cheeks as he glanced over his shoulder at _Bucky’s_ bed. “But, I—”

“Seriously, Steve. If you can lay on that monster for more than ten minutes without hurting, you’re a better man than me. I can’t even sit on the thing after the last time I passed out drunk here and woke up in the morning needing a chiropractor.”

* * *

Which is how Steve found himself, a couple hours later, laid out on _Bucky’s_ bed. Surrounded by sheets that smelled exactly like the other man. It was sheer torture. Since he refused to masturbate in someone else’s bed, he decided on quieting his mind by reading instead. The most prominent collection on the shelf was the Harry Potter series… which Steve couldn’t help but find endearing. He also loved the series, and since it had been a while since he read it, he decided it would be his first choice. 

He’d been in bed for about half an hour, when his phone started ringing from the bedside table. His stomach plummeted at the thought of Tony trying to call, but when he leaned over to look at the screen, it was Bucky’s name flashing there.

“Hello?” he answered, marking his page in the book with a scrap of paper.

“Hey, Steve. Get settled in?”

Bucky’s voice was warm and deep, but Steve also noted a hint of exhaustion in his words. “Yeah. Thanks for letting me stay here, Buck.”

“Happy to help,” Bucky replied, before yawning dramatically into the phone. “Sorry,” he whispered, “These tours always kick my butt.”

“You should get some sleep, Buck.”

“I should. Hey, speaking of, you aren’t doing the valiant thing and trying to sleep on that couch, right? That thing is wicked.”

Steve chuckled, “Don’t worry, Sam gave me the same speech. I’m safely tucked away in the bed.”

“Such a shame… I’ve been trying for weeks to get you in my bed, and now you are and I’m a thousand miles away.”

He rolled his eyes. “ _Bucky._ ”

“If you wanna get a bit handsy with yourself, feel free. There’s some lube and toys in the bedside drawer—”

“ _GOODNIGHT, BUCKY._ ”

Bucky laughed on the other side of the line. “Goodnight, Steve. Sleep tight.”


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next three days, Steve woke up no less than three times a night from a dirty dream involving Bucky and his comfortable mattress. And despite Bucky’s suggestion of _taking care of_ such issues, Steve still refused to touch himself in Bucky’s bed… especially since he didn’t know where Bucky did his laundry (there weren’t machines in the apartment… he’d checked). 

So he and his right hand spent a lot of time together in the shower. When he wasn’t at work, he was either drawing or coming up with another bullshit excuse to ‘get clean.’

Tony had tried to call _again_ , but it was easy enough to block his number. Thankfully, Steve had gotten his job _after_ the break-up, so Tony couldn’t find him at work and bother him there. Sometimes he felt bad for ignoring his ex, but it was usually right around those moments when he would get a random _’how’s your day?’_ message from Bucky and suddenly he’d forget all about Tony Stark. 

The more those messages crept into his day-to-day life, the more he questioned his own resistance towards having feelings for Bucky. The attraction was obvious, Bucky’s ‘courting’ was obvious… so why was he still holding back? Even the initial fear that Bucky would try and _buy_ his affection the way that Tony had, had been proven to be unrealistic. Bucky had offered to help, yes, but had never been overly pushy about his money or status the way that Tony couldn’t help but be.

It lead Steve to spending a lot of time thinking he might just be wrong. What was the point in holding back on his feelings, when they were so obviously _right there_ and not going away?

On the fourth day, he walked back towards Bucky’s apartment covered in caramel macchiato and three hours early. It wasn’t his fault that his favorite _(not)_ customer was extra bitchy on that particular day and even less amused with Steve’s snark than normal. Since Steve had just gotten back from his break, he had been on the expeditor end of the line and tasked with handing out coffee and calling names. Was it really his fault that the cashier had written ‘Brooke’ instead of ‘Brock’? No. To be fair, Steve wasn’t even _trying_ to be snarky.

The guy had grabbed the cup, taken off the lid, and then promptly poured it over Steve’s head.

At least it had been iced and not scalding hot.

As soon as Bucky’s apartment door shut behind him, Steve was already stripping off his still mostly drenched shirt. “Fucking douchebag customers.” He could have chalked it up to a mistake, apologized and went on with his day — maybe changed out his shirt with a spare one in his locker — if the dude hadn’t thrown a bitch fit in front of the manager and demanded Steve be fired. Steve had been sent to the back while the manager placated the customer, and when the door swung open and the manager stepped into the backroom, thankfully it hadn’t been his job he was losing.

Just the rest of the week’s pay… because the manager had promised to at least suspend Steve for a few days.

“Fuck them all.”

“Who are we fucking?” a familiar voice called from the direction of the bedroom.

Steve’s day immediately brightened as he hurried to the bedroom, wet shirt forgotten on the foyer floor. “Bucky!” he exclaimed, all but tackling the other man where he stood in the middle of the room. 

It was only mid-hug that Steve realized he probably should have paid attention to what he was doing… because there was absolutely no denying that he and Bucky were skin-to-skin right now.

He dropped his hands and took a step back, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he looked to the floor. Of course… not before he got a quick glance of Bucky standing there in nothing but his boxer-briefs. 

Bucky’s forefinger and thumb lifted Steve’s chin back up and Steve met his gaze with a shy smile. There were drips of water on Bucky’s forehead, meaning he had just finished with a shower when Steve walked in.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Bucky whispered, the tip of his thumb running along Steve’s bottom lip.

“ _Bucky,_ ” he breathed. A moment later Bucky’s lips were replacing the soft touch of his thumb and suddenly they were _kissing._ Steve gasped, a bit shocked by the development, and Bucky took the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

How something could be so gentle yet so rushed at the same time, he would never know. The kiss seemed to light a fire in Bucky’s bones though, because in no time at all he had Steve pressed up against the wall, lifting Steve’s significantly smaller body up so that his legs were able to wrap around Bucky’s waist. 

The kiss broke off, but Bucky was simply leaving Steve’s lips to blaze a trail down to his neck. “You smell like coffee,” he moaned.

Steve’s head thudded back against the wall as he tried to list the Presidents in alphabetical order and avoid an embarrassing erection showing up and pressing against Bucky’s belly. “Got one dumped on me by a customer. ‘S why I’m home early.”

Bucky latched onto a spot at the base of Steve’s neck that immediately had him moaning. “Makes me want to drink you in. _Lick you clean._ ” Bucky growled in between kisses.

He felt his head swimming a bit, overwhelmed by arousal and need. Bucky had _just_ gotten home. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week! They couldn’t just jump right into bed at the first sight of each other… “You gotta stop, Buck. I don’t want our first time to be rushed and against a wall.”

It took a moment, but Bucky finally pulled back, easing Steve’s feet back to the floor and offering an apologetic smile as he put a step of space between their bodies. “Sorry,” he quickly said.

As hard as Steve had been fighting to hide his erection… Bucky obviously wasn’t worried about such trivial matters. He had absolutely no issue with letting his feelings for Steve show, judging by the hard outline of his dick in the tight underwear he wore. When he saw Steve noticing, though, he had the decency to look embarrassed. He scratched at the back of his neck, “I’m gonna put some clothes on and order us a pizza, if you wanna take a shower.”

Steve nodded, “Okay.”

“You aren’t leaving right away, right? I can sleep on the couch, I just… I’ve missed you so much, Steve. I can’t really bare the thought of you going back to yours tonight.”

“I can stay,” Steve answered before his fears got the best of him. “Tony probably still has someone watching my place.”

“Good. I mean, not good that—”

Reaching out, Steve grabbed Bucky’s right wrist and squeezed gently, cutting off his nervous words. “I know what you mean.”

One more kiss to Steve’s cheek and Bucky was stepping back to grab the shirt and jeans he’d laid out on the bed. “I’ll be out here if you need me.”

* * *

By the time Steve was out of the shower and dressed in his pajamas, Bucky was sitting on the couch wearing lounge pants and a soft t-shirt with a box of pizza sitting beside him. It was still early evening, but Steve had skipped lunch in his rush to get to work, so it was nice that Bucky had gone ahead and ordered dinner, instead of putting it off for later. 

Steve got a bottle of water from the fridge, before walking over and lifting the pizza box up so that he could sit in the space beside Bucky. He let the box rest on his small lap, and turned to look at the man beside him. “I missed you,” he stated, voice soft but matter-of-fact. He laid his head forward against Bucky’s left shoulder, where beneath his cotton shirt the scar of a bullet blemished otherwise perfect flesh. 

He felt Bucky place a kiss on the top of his head. “Missed you too, punk.”

They ate in silence for a while, before they had both reached their ‘pizza intake limit’ and Steve finally dropped the box onto the floor in front of them. “So,” he started, turning to the side a bit so he could see Bucky’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were Captain America?”

He watched Bucky open his mouth and then proceed to close it… _three times._ Finally, a frown creased his brow and Bucky asked, “Was it Sam?”

Steve rolled his eyes and poked Bucky in the side. “No one told me! You think I don’t know how to google your name, Buck? You tell me you’re a model and then expect me to _not_ go looking for proof?”

Bucky let out a soft sigh and ducked his head. “I wanted to tell you, but you were so adamant about not wanting to be helped with money and not liking rich people… I didn’t want my job to be the thing that made you hate me.”

It was probably Tony’s brief reintroduction into his life that made Steve see the truth in what Bucky was saying. His own pain from that previous relationship had caused him to develop a prejudice against the rich, and if he had known from the start who Bucky was he would have never answered that first text message.

Steve spun, moving his legs up onto the couch and settling his small body onto Bucky’s lap in a straddle. Reaching out, gently, he traced his hands along Bucky’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I let what happened in the past dictate how I reacted in the present. My ma always told me to never look back, but it’s easier said than done.”

Bucky’s hands landed on Steve’s hips, drawing him closer. Then his forehead was resting against Steve’s and suddenly they were so impossibly close and it was everything Steve had ever wanted. “ _Steve,_ ” Bucky whispered. “Steve, I think I’m in love with you.”

_Shit._ Steve didn’t have words to describe the emotional response he had to Bucky saying that. He gasped, momentarily caught off guard, and then when his brain kicked back into gear, he found himself closing the distance and kissing Bucky like it was his last day on Earth. One kiss turned into two turned into a full-on make-out session there on the couch that was, true to everyone’s warning, incredibly uncomfortable. Time passed, he was sure, but it honestly felt like they were trapped in a bubble where everything stood still around them. All Steve cared about was the way Bucky felt beneath him, the way they were sharing every breath at that point… and the way soft hands were creeping up the back of his shirt.

The shirt got tossed aside on the floor a few minutes later, and Steve gasped at the feeling of Bucky tweaking one of his nipples. “Buck—”

“Do you want me, Stevie?” Bucky asked, lips and teeth moving along Steve’s neck. “Want me inside of you? Or spread out beneath you?”

Steve moaned, letting his head fall back to give Bucky more access to the sensitive spots on his neck. ”You would do that?” No one had ever offered to allow that. People looked at Steve and saw a sickly kid that needed to be babied and most men looked at him and saw a replacement for a woman. They wanted to tower over Steve with their massive amounts of testosterone and masculinity — fuck him hard into the bed and remind him of his place in the universe.

No one ever wanted _him_ to do the fucking. Not even women.

“I would do anything for you, Steve.” Bucky nipped at Steve’s earlobe. “I’ll stand on the roof and declare my love for you to the whole city, if it’ll put a smile on your face.”

“ _Bucky._ ”

Steve definitely intended to take him up on that offer one day (the fucking thing, not the rooftop proclamation), but on that particular day, he wanted nothing more than to let Bucky take him to bed and show him exactly how strong that love was. 

“Tell me what you want, gorgeous.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

* * *

It took a while to get to the bedroom. It also took quite a bit of time to get out of their clothes. At first Steve thought he was messing something up and that the pace was his fault, until he tried to kick off his pants and realized suddenly that they were doing everything at _Bucky’s_ pace… which was torturously slow. By the time the lube and condoms finally made their appearance, Steve felt like his whole body was gonna spontaneously combust.

He should have maybe expected that if Bucky had been slow up until that point, he would continue to take his time as he prepped Steve.

A few minutes later, when Steve was a whimpering and begging mess, he raised his head in time to see Bucky rolling on a condom and actually _chuckled_ , before he realized suddenly what he had done and quickly hid his face in his hands.

“Steve. Stevie. Did you just _laugh_ at my dick?”

“No!” he squeaked, face burning hot. “I swear! I just… I can’t believe you’re _torturing me_ like this!”

“Is that so?” Bucky moved forward, lining his dick up with Steve’s slick ass and carefully arranging Steve’s small legs to wrap around his waist. It wasn’t much at all for him to slowly start pressing inside, while simultaneously leaning forward to kiss Steve’s nose. “Am I going too slow for you, Steve?” 

“Yes!”

In one move, Bucky surged forward and seated himself completely inside of Steve, causing Steve to cry out in a mix of pleasure and the good kind of pain. His cock was leaking against his lower abdomen, completely okay with the lack of attention. Steve hadn’t mentioned it out loud yet, but he preferred — when being fucked by a sizable cock — to ignore his dick in favor of the more pleasurable prostate orgasm. He had a vibrating dildo back at his apartment that he liked to keep in his ass until he was a shuddering, over-stimulated mess.

Judging by how full he felt with Bucky inside of him, he was going to have absolutely no problems reaching that point.

Bucky was mumbling a bit of nonsense in Steve’s ear about how tight and good he felt. Steve moaned, heels digging into Bucky’s ass to force him forward faster and harder. “Fuck me, Buck!”

As Bucky started to move faster and harder, Steve closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the feelings. When Bucky reached between them to wrap his right hand around Steve’s cock, Steve quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him, eyes opening as he shook his head. “Don’t.”

“Steve?”

He moved his hands up to Bucky’s shoulders, nails digging a bit into his skin there. “Just fuck me.”

Bucky seemed confused, but he obeyed the request, going harder still until finally, a few moments later, Steve felt that glorious peak and his whole body seized up, back raising off of the bed and head falling back, as the orgasm rushed through him. 

Bucky’s hips slowed their movements, his hands reaching under Steve to cradle his shaking body. When Steve cried out in ecstasy and pleasure, Bucky finally let go and gave into his own orgasm — thrusts stilted and a little sloppy, brain cells obviously worried more about pleasure than movement.

When Steve came to, Bucky was curled protectively over him and gasping for breath. Steve moaned, brushing his fingers through Bucky’s short brown hair. “That was amazing.”

“You’re telling me.” Bucky raised up on his elbow, glancing between their bodies to see the mess on Steve’s stomach, before looking back up to catch Steve’s gaze. “I’ve never… no one’s ever… fuck, I thought that was only shit they did in porn!” He leaned down to kiss Steve’s cheek. “You’re gonna have to teach me that trick, Stevie.”

Steve chuckled, a little out of breath and contemplating whether he should ask Bucky to hand him his inhaler or not. “For the record,” he gasped, voice a bit quieter, “I love you too.”


	5. Chapter 5

\--- **Six Months Later** \---

* * *

**People:** We’re here today with Captain America, James Barnes, everyone’s favorite national icon. James, how has life been recently? 

**Captain America:** You know, it’s been good. Life has… yeah, it’s been really great.

**P:** Now, we saw you recently walk the red carpet of the Met Gala with some new arm candy… care to tell us some more about that?

**CA:** (CA laughs) Down to business so soon?

**P:** That’s why they pay me the big bucks, Cap.

**CA:** I can see that. Yeah. The Met Gala was fantastic this year. I appreciate them inviting me to join the party. Honestly, surrounded by all of those movie stars in fancy get-ups, I kind of feel like I’m a first grader playing dress-up in my dad’s closet.

**P:** You always rock the dress blues, Cap. The women of America appreciate a man in uniform. Even one that might not swing for their team. Now, if you’d like, I can get a bit more detailed in the question. You appeared at the Gala with a young man on your arm… both of you looked dashing and, quite frankly, adorable together. Does this mean Captain America is gay?

**CA:** First off, Captain America is a _persona_ , like you said earlier… he’s a national icon. And as far as I’m concerned, personas don’t get to have sexual identities, because when I put on the uniform, I’m not doing it to get laid. That being said, James Barnes? The man behind Cap’s mask? He’s never liked labels, but if we’re pulling teeth, he’d call himself bisexual. I’ve had relationships with both men and women in the past and have never preferred one over the other. Love is love, my friend.

**P:** Well said. And your current relationship? We couldn’t help but notice the blush that would hit your cheeks when you caught his eyes that night…

**CA:** Steve is… he’s everything. One of the most honest and caring men I’ve ever met. When we first started dating, he was going through a rough patch financially and I still witnessed him on more than one occasion offering his lunch to someone less fortunate. When you live a life like mine… you learn that sometimes people only see the persona, and not the person underneath. Every time I’ve dated, since becoming Cap, I have feared that. I usually hesitate to tell people the truth — even if the internet makes it impossible to keep a secret these days — but Steve… Steve fell in love with James Barnes, long before he knew Captain America. If I lost this gig tomorrow, lost everything, he would stand by me no matter what. Finding someone like that? It ain’t easy.

**P:** Wow. He sounds… amazing.

**CA:** Amazing don’t even begin to cut it. But… yeah.

**P:** Wonderful. Now, let’s talk about this summer’s charity tour…

* * *

Steve kept his job at the coffee shop until it became obvious that he was beginning to draw a crowd only interested in information about Bucky. After that, he handed in his notice, and for a couple weeks — while he hunted for something else — he focused solely on the new paintings he was working on. At some point he had started drawing a picture of Bucky, while he was asleep on the couch one night, and about halfway through the picture, he drew a line straight down the middle and finished the second half with Captain America in a similar position. 

It was the first framed picture that Bucky hung up in their apartment. Well… _his_ apartment that Steve had eventually moved his stuff into because what was the point in paying for rent when he spent all of his time at Bucky’s anyways?

The picture sat beside the television that had been Steve’s, across from the still-shitty couch, but with a well loved coffee table in the middle that was covered with a piece of embroidery Steve’s mom had made.

At one point, when they were moving Steve’s record player into the apartment, Steve had stopped and looked at how full the place was with his things there, in comparison to how it had been before. He’d immediately felt bad and told Bucky he would sell off as much of his stuff as possible so that it felt less cluttered. Bucky had just chuckled at him and shook his head.

“Stevie, I didn’t have _stuff_ before, because it didn’t feel like a home. It just felt like a place I went to for a shower and a good night’s sleep.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed his temple at that point. “But now? Now it feels like a _home._ Anywhere that you are will always be home to me.”

It was sweet, yes, but Steve still secretly got rid of a few things that he honestly never used anyway, so what was the point in having them around?

“What’s this one?” 

He jumped a bit, sitting in his little nook by the large panoramic windows, a half finished canvas in front of him. Steve looked up at Bucky and gratefully accepted the proffered cup of tea. After a sip, he looked back to the painting. It was Bucky and Cap, again, both personas merging into one person cooking breakfast. The perspective was from the back, though, so the viewer could see how the weight of the world tugged down Cap’s shoulders just a little bit more than Bucky’s. Bucky was on the left, as well, wearing a t-shirt so that Steve was able to draw in the faint lines of his tattoo from the elbow down.

“Breakfast time,” Steve answered.

“Fuck, Steve.” 

“I still have to add the paints and—”

“We’re calling that lady.”

“What? No!” Steve dropped his brush in a cup of water and set his tea aside, rushing to follow Bucky as he hurried to the kitchen. “Buck, she doesn’t want to see my crappy scribbles!”

“If she didn’t want to see them, Steve, she wouldn’t have handed you the damn card in the middle of Central Park!”

* * *

“This is stupid.” Steve wiggled his tie for the fifth time in less than a minute. “No one is going to show up. And if they do, they’ll only be here to see you!”

“Well, duh, I mean… I am in all of the pictures, punk.”

He glared at Bucky. Bucky… who’s stupid idea it was to call the damn gallery lady and let her take a look at Steve’s Captain America paintings. _Bucky_ who had insisted on following through with the idea of an actual gallery show featuring the paintings.

Sam walked up to them then, carrying three glasses of champagne. The show had officially opened two minutes before. “Take this,” Sam demanded, handing each of them a glass. “Drink, act like you don’t have sticks up your butts.”

“Everyone already knows we’re in a relationship involving things going up butts,” Bucky mused, his lips on the edge of the champagne flute.

“Oh my God,” Steve gasped, eyes tracking over to the doors — the doors that he had been _afraid_ of looking at — Sam reached out on instinct and caught Steve’s glass before he could drop it. At the doors, a group of well dressed people were stepping into the gallery and being greeted by Peggy, the gallery owner. “Why are there so many people?” He suddenly felt his neck heating up with panic and anxiety. “You shoulda stayed home, Buck. Everyone is going to be asking for your autograph and not even paying atten—” Steve cut himself off, too fascinated to speak. Instead of rushing towards where Bucky stood — which was a common occurrence when they were out and about — the group was spreading out around the gallery in various directions. Towards the _art._ “Holy shit.”

A few beats later, Peggy walking over holding a slip of paper, which she presented to Steve. “Congratulations, Steve, you just officially sold your first painting.”

“I—” Steve felt his breath getting a bit wheezy as he looked down at the check. That was a _lot_ of zeros. “I— But they’ve hardly even looked!”

From beside him, Bucky leaned forward, kissing his temple with a smile and gently placing Steve’s inhaler into his hands. Steve took a hit of the medicine, before realizing that he hadn’t even remembered to bring the thing, so obviously Bucky had seen it and stuck it in his own pocket. He turned to his boyfriend, arms wrapping around Bucky’s neck, inhaler and check in hand.

“I love you!” Steve proclaimed, loud enough that the whole room probably heard. It wasn’t like he didn’t say it all the time, but it still meant so much to him, seeing how Bucky had opened his life up to so much more happiness, especially after the pain of losing his mother.

And hell, he might not be shouting from the rooftops and announcing it to the world… but then again? Steve’s world was right there in his arms… and Bucky had definitely heard him.

* * *

**Fin.**

**  
_After the credits:_  
**

“I think I look good.” 

Steve laughed, hands tucked in his pockets as he ducked his head and tried to pretend he wasn’t associated with Bucky. Which was stupid, of course, since the whole world _(practically)_ knew that they’d gotten engaged the week before. As they continued walking, Steve glanced over at Bucky in his favorite blue button up coat, before looking to the right at the myriad of Captain America posters that were screaming from the building wall they were walking past.

“Keep telling yourself that, Cap.”

Bucky reached out, nudging him a bit, before grabbing Steve’s left hand with his right. Steve could feel the platinum band being twisted on his finger and couldn’t help but smile.

They walked like that for a few minutes until they rounded a corner and suddenly Steve was coming face to face with a blast from his past. “ _Tony._ ” His ex looked good — showing no signs that he had fallen off the wagon in the year or so that they had been apart. 

“Steve!” Tony grinned, reaching forward to give Steve a quick hug, before holding his hand out to Bucky. “Tony Stark, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Cap.”

Bucky shook his hand, and it didn’t take much for Steve to recognize that Bucky was wearing his ‘PR’ smile — the one reserved for annoying press conferences. “Likewise,” Bucky replied.

Tony dropped his hand and focused back on Steve. “Congrats on the engagement. Happiness suits you well.” Tony looked like he was about to make a quick retreat, before he stopped and smiled. “I have one of your prints hanging up in my living room. I’m not sure if you meant for it to be about me — but there is one where Captain America is lending a hand to an addict on a street corner…”

“I know the one,” Steve whispered, looking down. He felt Bucky squeezing his hand. The picture had been one of his most cathartic to paint. Captain America was helping a man off of a street corner, and it showed them walking into a sunset, fading and transforming into Bucky and a recovered addict, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders in companionable friendship. He glanced back up at his ex. “Tony, I—”

Tony just shook his head and continued to smile. “It’s okay, Steve. Listen, I’ve gotta run… I’m actually on my way to meet my sponsor for dinner. She’s great. Fiery redhead… everytime I think about messing up, she threatens to kick my ass and then calms me down.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder as he moved past. “See ya around, Steve. Take care of our boy, Cap!”

Steve and Bucky stood there in silence until long after Tony had turned the corner. Finally, Steve grabbed back onto Bucky’s hand and began walking again. “I guess I don’t get the appeal,” he finally spoke, once they had walked another block. “I mean _Captain America_ wants me. That’s a lot for someone like Bucky Barnes to live up to…”

Bucky bumped his shoulder, “You’re lucky I love you, punk.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Archie has a tumblr!](http://archofimagine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
